


Sword in the Stone

by Reiya_Wakayama



Series: Remix of the Legend [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Depression, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-15
Updated: 2011-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya_Wakayama/pseuds/Reiya_Wakayama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, pre-slash, A/M, A day on patrol for the new king is nothing new. When a storm hits and they seek shelter, what they find may not be what they were expecting to find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sword in the Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s another one of my little collection of stories based from the legend. This one focuses around the sword in the stone part, where Arthur extracts Excalibur from the stone that Merlin put it in. In this though, the stone is not what you think it is, even though Merlin did put it in there. This one will be a little longer than the other ones I’ve typed up. By little I mean a lot bigger. This will consist of two parts, this and the next one ‘Tears from Stone’. So look forward to it. Enjoy.

“You know, Arthur. When we say you don’t have to come, that doesn’t mean leave before us so that we can’t send you back without an escort.” Lancelot scolded the blonde as they rode down a well-worn trail in one of Camelot’s many woodland areas.

“Ah, yes. I thought I heard you say something like that yesterday, but I tend to ignore useless comments. Besides, I have every right to be here and who is your superior?” He asked arrogantly, flashing a smile at the darker male.

“You are, but as King it is your duty to look after your people. You could do that better there than way out here where no one can reach you if something happens.” Lancelot tried to reason with the newest king of Camelot. Arthur had been crowned three years ago on Midsummer’s Day. Yet he still acted like the prince he used to be. Always ignoring reason and going after monsters and on adventures.

“You forget one thing though. I left Morgana in charge while I’m away. If something should happen while I’m gone, she can handle it, quite easily might I add.” It seemed the king was still in his rebellious stage, when the burden of such responsibility chafed at him.

Sighing, his second-in-command gave up and rode ahead. Neither man noticed the silent grins of the three other knights behind them. Arguing with Arthur was useless and just wasted breath. Sometimes it would be easier to argue with his step-sister then try and reason with him.

So, on they rode, through miles of trees as they searched for any threats to the kingdom. A stop at a nearby village supplied lunch in exchange for a few much needed coins. They ate quietly on a hill overlooking the woods and village.

“Hmm, it should be…right there.” Leon said aloud, eyes turned to the east of the hill and village which was on the hill’s western slope.

“What the hell are you rambling on about over there?” Gwaine asked, eyeing the dirty blonde knight.

“I was talking to one of the locals earlier. He told me that that hillside over there has a large cave system in it. They say any livestock near there goes missing every once in a while and that the forest creatures avoid it. Probably a load of village superstition, but it’s still interesting.” He explained, taking a bite out of his roll of bread.

“Do you think it might be bandits hiding out in there?” Arthur asked, looking up in interest.

“I don’t think so. They say that many of the passages in there are unstable and very thin. It would be hard for any significant amount of people to survive there, let alone even a few people.” He explained as he finished off his food.

They soon forgot about the cave system as they set off, headed northwest towards the last stretch of their route before they would turn around and start heading back on a longer route.

Lancelot looked back the way they came as he noticed the light getting dimmer the further they rode. Large black clouds were racing their way, a curtain of rain following its trail. “Sire.” He called out and the others looked where he gazed.

“Leon, is that cave nearby?” Arthur called out to the other blonde.

“We should be passing just north of it sire. If we push the horses a little we might be able to make it before the rain hits.”

Turning south they spurred their mounts on, their shadows jumping ahead occasionally as lightening sparked behind them followed by thunder’s growl.

They just barely made it, a few fat drop of rain landing with a ‘ping’ on their armor before they pulled the horses up inside. The cave was dark, little light coming in from outside due to the storm raging out there.

Quickly, they dismounted, and untacked their mounts before rubbing them down. Lancelot soon had a fire going as they did this, using leaves and other debris that had been blown inside as tender for the larger and slightly damp pieces of wood.

They gathered around its yellow and orange glow, warming hands as they stripped off the more burdensome armor they wore. “How long do you think the storm will last?” Kay finally asked after a long silence.

“Who knows, we may be stuck here over night if we’re unlucky.” Gwaine said, eyeing the rain outside the cave’s mouth. Another silence descended as they thought over that piece of news. They had food, but the prospect of sleeping outdoors, even with shelter, wasn’t a fun one. Not in the middle of summer when the insects came out at day and night, especially the stinging flies.

~

It was nearing dark; they could tell by the way the gloom just got darker around them, when they noticed the sound. With the storm blowing over, and no more thunder to cover it up, they could actually hear it.

At first they thought it was just wind blowing through another cave opening, but as the storm dissipated and the wind died down for the night, it kept on.

It seemed too regular to be wind; it sounded almost like…something really large snoring as it slept. This of course wasn’t something they wanted to contemplate. If they were sharing these caves with something large and possibly hungry, they wanted to leave before it woke.

Except that, although the storm was done, it was still too dark to see outside. The moon had yet to rise and probably wouldn’t even show through the cloudy sky. That would be risking a twisted ankle or a lamed horse and a long walk back home.

Deciding that they should know what it was that resided in the cave, Arthur made a couple of torches and headed further into the stone and earth of the cave system. His knights trailed behind him, swords drawn as they went deeper in.

For the most past it was one long stone passage, no other branches or caverns. The further they went the damper it got, except that it seemed to be getting lighter at the same time, light seeming to come from nowhere to give them enough illumination to see by, even if they hadn’t brought a torch with them.

The sound got louder and soon, a cavern opened up in front of them. It was huge, the ceiling soaring up and up where the light of the torch or whatever it was that illuminated the gloom could not reach. Stalagmites were all along the edges, giving the illusion of some carnivorous beast’s teeth.

But although it was tall, it wasn’t as wide. They could make out the back wall of the cavern, slick and covered with lichen and moss. There was nothing in the center but a large mound of some sort of stone rising in a misshapen heap.

Taking a step closer, Arthur went to go around the mound, thinking the beast was on the other side. What he wasn’t expecting was for the mound to move, one large eye opening to show a yellowish green iris, the pupil slitted like a cat’s.

They all jumped back with a curse as the thing lifted itself up, towering over them. Great leather wings stretched out, as if it had slept a long time and it was just getting up. They had stumbled upon a dragon’s den.

The thing looked down at them and Arthur swore it smirked down at them. Of course, at that moment it spoke, so he wasn’t too sure about it. “Peace, knights. I have no wish to harm you.” The voice echoed off the stone walls, adding to its power.

“Why?” Arthur asked, keeping his sword between him and the great reptile.

“I have no desire to hurt Camelot’s newest king.” He said sagely. That gave them a start, but Arthur continued to look up at the dragon.

“Dragon, how is it you know of me?”

“Oh, I know much about you, Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon and Ygraine of Tintagel.” The others were now staring at the dragon as if he was now sprouting a second head to go with his large wings and lethal claws.

“Then, since you know me already, who are you?” He asked, keeping his wits about him.

“Very wise, Pendragon. You are a diplomat as well as a warrior. I am Kilgharrah, last of the great dragons.” He inclined his large head to him.

“If you are the last, then why do you live here?” Lancelot asked, looking around, voice unafraid.

“Duty.” That had them all looking at him. “I am charged by a higher power to guard something infinitely precious to the future of Camelot and the rest of Albion. It is my duty to stay here and guard it.”

“What is this thing that is so important that a dragon must guard it?” Arthur asked as he remembered the tales of dragons guarding hoards of treasure with such ferocity that none could match. Was it some sort of treasure?

They all jumped as the dragon moved, rising to his feet as his scales scraped along the stone floor. He moved back, shifting his body to reveal what had been hidden. It was some sort of low dais or table and something lay on it.

They looked and then looked again as they took in what was lain on the stone surface. It was a human. He looked to be about in his early twenties. Skin pale and hair an inky black, his eyes were closed to them.

And it wasn’t even that he was nude, only a small length of clothe covering him. No it was what rose above him and through him, piercing where his heart would be. And as they watched, his chest rose and fell, as if asleep and not impaled by a sword.

“Sorcery.” Arthur breathed out, eyeing the male. He continued to sleep, oblivious to the audience in the cave.

The dragon just nodded to his statement. “Who is he?” Kay asked as he took a step closer to get a better look. He came up short when some sort of invisible shield around him stopped the knight from advancing.

“Merlin, a sorcerer of great power and even greater sorrow for his is not a happy tale.”

“Will you tell us?” Gwaine asked, sitting down on a nearby bolder, sword resting in his lap.

“It is why I am here.” Kilgharrah told him. The rest of the knights, eyeing the dragon, sat themselves, except Arthur, who remained standing and watching the slumbering warlock.

Kilgharrah lay himself down as well, settling in for the tale. “Many years ago, I first met him, young and just grown into his powers but untaught. He was unlike any warlock I had met before and I soon came to realize that unlike other who teach themselves the art of magic, he was born with it. He was kin to me, a creature of magic and the Old Religion.”

He paused as he gathered his thoughts. “I soon found him someone to teach him and his power just grew. Eventually, he came into the notice of one of Albion’s many kings, long dead by now, but well into his years then. He appointed Merlin soon after that to the position of Royal Sorcerer and for a while, thing seemed to be on course, for he was meant for great things.”

The dragon’s voice grew weary and resigned at this point. “That was when she came into the picture, Vivian, another of the Old Religion and large in magic. Needless to say, it was love at first sight, for him anyways. She strung him along with promises and false longing, using him for his knowledge.”

His voice was angry as he remembered this time. “When she left him, he was shattered. For weeks, he wouldn’t eat, drink or sleep unless told to. It hurt to see him wasting away so, but it hurt even more when he finally lost it. Being a creature of magic, his control over it could slip sometimes when under great turmoil of emotion. He let the magic loose and it changed him. To stop the pain he turned his heart to stone, literally, but it didn’t help. He could still feel it, beating behind the shield of stone.”

His voice was resigned again. “He eventually turned to death. He tried many things. His magic wouldn’t allow any blade to slice his flesh and any poison was burned away before it even touched his stomach. He was growing desperate in his search for release from his pain. That was when he came to me, in such a state. I told him about a sword, which when tempered by a dragon’s flames, could kill anything. He bade me temper a blade for him, using his magic to compel me…and I did it. I forged the means for his death.”

He remained silent for some time, staring at nothing as he got himself under control. He gave a great sigh, the power of it ruffling their hair. “It didn’t work as he wanted it to. His magic intervened at the last moment. Instead of killing him, it embedded itself in his heart of stone, until the one who could pull it out came along.”

He turned to stare down at the newly appointed king. “I kept one thing from him, when I first met him: where his destiny would lead him. He is bound to another, destined to unite the kingdom into one land…but he was born too soon. Vivian, she knew this and set it up to lead to this moment. That she had to break his heart in the process was unforgivable, but necessity cares not for the heart in order for the future to continue.”

The cave was silent as the men took in the story. That one so young could be driven by such pain and willing to take his life was a hard truth to face. “Who is the one he was destined to meet?” Arthur asked voice soft in the silent cave.

“You already know.” He said, staring down at him with hard eyes. “Only myself and the one destined to pull the sword from the stone may pass the barrier, as you have seen.”

Arthur just stared at him, face unreadable as he processed this information. They watched as resolve crossed his face and he squared his shoulders. Turning towards the sorcerer, he took a step and nothing stopped his progress.

He continued onward, a step at a time, until at last he stood at the edge of the dais. As he looked down at the pale face, he was struck with how sad he looked, as if the weight of the world rested on his thin shoulders and he couldn’t bear it anymore.

He turned his gaze further down and came to rest upon the sword and where it pierced flesh. Where the heart would be, pale grey stone, almost white in its color, met steel. The sword truly was set in stone…and yet with each breath, the chest moved freely, as if it didn’t know a sword was buried in it.

Clenching his jaw grimly, he took a step up onto the dais, standing over the pale body. He took a firm grip of the hilt and felt it pulse, as if the heart if was stuck in was part of the sword. Bracing himself with spread legs, he grasped it tight, and pulled.

He met no resistance as the sword left his body cleanly. For a moment, nothing happened as, sword in hand; he stared down at the warlock. And then his eyes snapped open, shining gold in the dim light.

They just stared at each other, unable to look away as slowly, his eyes faded from gold to blue. Then they closed and he seemed to deflate as he passed out. Stepping down, he rested the sword next to him.

 _‘Your destinies are now intertwined, Arthur Pendragon. I charge you now with one thing. In order to meet that destiny and with it wield the sword Excalibur, you must awaken his heart. For if you cannot, you will never unite this land. Do you understand?'_ He asked in Arthur’s mind.

The blonde king didn’t even blink as this happened, but he nodded ever so slightly towards the dragon. “Please, watch over my kin. He has suffered much and deserves a second chance at happiness.” The dragon turned and started walking away, wings stretching as he prepared for takeoff.

With a great gust of wind, he was gone, soaring up into the gloom of the great cavern. _'If you should need me, just call. I will not be far from Camelot.'_ His voice echoed down one last time into the king’s mind.

Arthur turned to look at his knights and they stared right back. What now? Turning back to the sleeping warlock, he quickly came to a decision. Picking up the blade, he slid it through his belt next to his other sword. Then, bending down, he gently lifted the man up.

He was light enough to carry without too much of a struggle. The cloth was still over him and somehow it had wrapped around his waist like some sort of skirt. He slowly carried him back the way they had come, following his knights and the torches they carried.

They soon came back to the main cave where the horses still waited. Pulling out his bedroll, he tucked the man in and settled in for a night of thinking. The others were soon asleep in their own bedrolls.

It wasn’t until dawn was soon to arrive that he came to a realization. Although he had pulled the sword from the stone, a stone heart to be precise, he still had a larger problem. How do you make something turned to stone feel again without breaking it all over again? And could he do it in time for this destiny thing to be fulfilled?

 **End.**


End file.
